“Your husband—if you like. Is he out, too?”
“He is in the smoking-room.”
“Do you mean the long room, built out from the back of the house?”
“Yes.”
“Come down stairs at once with me.”
Blanche advanced a step—and drew back. “What do you want of me?” she asked, inspired by a sudden distrust.
Lady Lundie turned round, and looked at her impatiently.
“Can’t you see yet,” she said, sharply, “that your interest and my interest in this matter are one? What have I told you?”
“Don’t repeat it!”
“I must repeat it! I have told you that Arnold Brinkworth was privately at Craig Fernie, with Miss Silvester, in the acknowledged character of her husband—when we supposed him to be visiting the estate left him by his aunt. You refuse to believe it—and I am about to put it to the proof. Is it your interest or is it not, to know whether this man deserves the blind belief that you place in him?”